


Anything for an A (General Chemistry will be the Death of Me)

by andhera



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, Lesbian Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-22
Updated: 2018-09-22
Packaged: 2019-07-15 15:36:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,118
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16066127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/andhera/pseuds/andhera
Summary: Kiyoko is nothing more than a disgruntled TA for an 8 AM General Chemistry, and when Yachi barges in during the middle of her lecture, flushed and innocent and just so fucking earnest, she becomes Shimizu’s undeniable favorite new student.





	Anything for an A (General Chemistry will be the Death of Me)

**Author's Note:**

> I am honestly just tired of searching for good Kiyoyachi smut and never seeing work dedicated to them as the main couple. And someone said, be the change you wish to see in the world, so here we all are today. I hope yall enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

Kiyoko is nothing more than a disgruntled TA for an 8 AM General Chemistry, and when Yachi barges in during the middle of her lecture, flushed and innocent and just so fucking  _ earnest,  _ she becomes Shimizu’s undeniable favorite new student.

To Kiyoko, couples always seemed to have a certain kind of conceit around them. They always made her feel like they knew better than her, or like they were unconsciously (or consciously, who knows) trying to make single people like her feel inferior with their constant displays of public affections and generally softness when they “thought” no one was watching.

Not that single people  _ weren’t  _ conceited, necessarily. Single people had their own way of making themselves feel better about being single, because as much as they tried to deny it, society had been conditioning all of us to want to actively be in or pursue relationships as the “be all, end all”. Sure, single people had their casual sex whenever they felt up to it (as much of it as the liked), and they had the luxury of simply thinking “Damn, glad I’m not going to have  _ that  _ kind of drama in my life!” but that didn’t mean that they were necessarily happier, or more fulfilled that coupled people. Both relationship statuses had their own set of trials and tribulations.

Still, she knew she was guilty of feeling superior at times, like when she was staring at her straight roommate and his girlfriend as she rested her head in his lap. As much as she envied how they were able to casually be on their phones, enjoying the comfortable silence hanging between them, she knew that she still wouldn’t be trying to get the kind of drama that caused her to dump her ex-girlfriend back into her life. Ever.

(Maybe she was just in a dry spell right now? Or maybe something about her just screaming “Come harass me! And be totally crazy while we’re dating! I’ll  _ love  _ being taken advantage of and emotionally berated!”. Either way, she knew that relationships just weren’t for her, anymore.)

She knew that her coupled friends her like that around single people as well, as one of her female friends recounted drunkenly after she’d ended a five-year relationship. “Yeah, me and Daisuke-kun, we (hic) would look at other couples who were having problems (hic), or pathetic single people who were always complaining (hic)about how single they are, and we would smile a secret smile to ourselves because we knew(hic)…that we’d  _ ever  _ never be like them.” It took all over her strength and willpower to put her arm around her feeble-minded friend and not strangle her.

Shimizu laughed bitterly as she threw back another swig of her coffee mug. She was about to put her headphones on and blast music while she was walking, scowling down at her feet in a maximal effort to dissuade people from talking to her. Not that they were actively  _ trying  _ to talk to her.

At nearly six foot (courtesy of wedged black combat boots that she  _ hoped _ were a very clear signal of her gayness), and dressed in black jeans, a black leather jacket, and a studded belt, she knew that people tended to scoot away from her on the train or hold their kids’ hands a little tighter as if she was just going to swoop down and swallow them whole (which  _ would  _ be a pretty cool super power, now that she thinks about it).

She walked towards the general chemistry I class that she had the unfortunate luck of TA’ing at 8 AM on a Monday, enjoying the way her boots left deep indentations in the snow that was shoveled into piles adjacent to the sidewalks all over campus. She preferred TA’ing the workshops for organic chemistry, partly because a sadistic part of her enjoyed marking up the confused sophomores’ problem sets in a bright, angry red pen, but also because (most) of them had at least a  _ working  _ understanding of chemistry and were medical school or dental school hopefuls who possessed (again,  _ most  _ of the time) half of a brain and knew what they were doing, at times.

General Chemistry I was not like that.

Her students were in all majors, and while there were mostly pre-health students in her class, there were just as many disgruntled slackers who thought this would be the easiest of all the classes offered for the general science requirement all undergrads had to take to graduate. Students came in and propped their skateboards (god, she remembered when she was young and had enough free time to fuck around on a skateboard) on their desks and barely took notes on the concepts that she  _ stressed _ , over an over,  _ would  _ be on the midterm exam the professors were writing up as they spoke.

But they didn’t care. And week after week, she received shoddy work and even shoddier excuses for missing class last week. Not that she cared, as the workshop hour she hosted was just for students to ask questions about the homework and get clarification on concepts they didn’t really understand in lecture, but it would be nice if students at least  _ pretended  _ to care about what she was saying to them, even if just for the ego boost.

It didn’t help that she  _ really  _ wasn’t a morning person.

She had never been one and being up at 6 AM just so that she could take a shower and run a comb through her wet hair before making the 45 minute train commute wasn’t her idea of a great time. It didn’t help that recently she’d been sleeping alone (which she’d always hated) as her on again/off again best friend/friend with benefits, Saeko, had decided that they were too toxic for each other and that maybe she “needed some time alone again to reconsider their arrangement”.

Tch. What does that even mean?

Who cares if she was into drinking a lot and smoke a pack a day and liked having a lot of casual sex with all the bi-curious girls that inevitably came to her to “experiment”?

(She had to smile wryly at that thought)

Yeah, she fancied herself as a player at times, but only because she was the most popular, openly lesbian grad student on campus, and had a bit of a reputation for “breaking in” the new girls who wrote their phone numbers on the back of the homework or came to her office hours religiously for reasons other than trying to understand diatomic bond structures.

She’d never been with a guy and even if they tried, relentlessly, to get her number or take her out to dinner, she’d no intention of it either. Guys grossed her out, with their tired machismo and their constant need to have their egos (and their dicks) stroked for their own fucking benefit.

She cursed herself because didn’t have time to smoke before the class that she finally made it to, and her hands tended to get shaky if she didn’t have her daily shot of nicotine in the morning. She asked her students to pass their homework forward and started sketching an electron dot structure on the board, so she could explain, yet again, how this relatively simple concept worked so that they wouldn’t  _ all  _ get the question wrong on the midterm (again).

She was about to fall into her own world again, drowning out the snickering at the back of the classroom from the kids who thought they were too cool to be there, until she heard huffing and puffing and belatedly heard the classroom door thrown open from behind her.

“S-sorry for the interruption,” a tiny blond girl panted out, clearly running out of air.

“M-my workshop section got messed up by the registrar, and they finally figured out which one I’m supposed to be in,” she let out again, tucking a loose strand of silky blond hair behind her ear.

Kiyoko’s heart lurched. This girl was so  _ tiny _ , almost a full foot shorter than her, and she was so dainty and delicate in all the right places. She had to be pre-med, probably dreaming of pediatrics or NICU with that earnest smile and the almost endearing way in which her chest rose and fell.

“It’s fine,” Kiyoko murmured, still maintaining her uncaring exterior, “Just take your seat.”

The girl almost blinded her with her smile, and as much as Kiyoko hated clichés, she couldn’t help but think about how the girl was almost as bright as the sun peaking through the clouds outside the window. She turned back to the board so that her students wouldn’t catch onto her embarrassment or the (god, how embarrassing) blush that was catching onto her pale cheeks.

“Oh, and what’s your name?” Kiyoko asked, turning around to her desk at the front of the room at sorting through papers, feigning like she was going to add her to her roster.

“A-ah, its Hitoka Yachi, thanks for teaching me,” she said politely, and folded her pleated blue and white checkered skirt under her as she took her seat in the front row.

(Her matching white knee socks had Kiyoko’s mind wandering to places  _ very  _ naughty and not at all related to General Chemistry I.)

(She turned back to the board and pretended to be at least a little bit responsible.)

Class has been a breeze for Yachi. She’d taken Advanced Placement Chemistry in high school and graduated at the top of her class. She loved science and she knew that one day she was going to go to med school just like her parents expected of her.

No, it wasn’t the educational aspect of her General Chemistry workshop that was causing her chest pains. That had less to do with dot diagrams and 3D structures, and more to do with the breathtaking woman at the front of the classroom. She was tall and dressed from head to toe in black, but there was no mistaking her classic beauty in her long, lustrous raven hair and her delicate nose and cheek bone structure underneath her pale, milky skin. Yachi was lucky that she was already ahead of the reading material listed in the syllabus because she did not take one word of notes in that frosty classroom in the bleak hours of the morning because she was too busy daydreaming about all the things that she and her mesmerizing TA could do after class together.

She imagined her beautiful TA asking her to stay after class, and she envisioned her pulling her close, pushing her against the blackboard and whispering in her ear if she was willing to do anything,  _ anything  _ at all to get a good grade in this class. Yachi had always been into taller girls, and it always helped if they had a dominant air about them. Yachi knew deep in her core that her TA (whose name she was yet to get) would be the type to push her around and tease her mercilessly, and she was perfectly happy with that. She would be wanton, mewling underneath her black clad form, and spread out prettily on the desk that Kiyoko was now using to set her textbook down and copy a problem from.

Kiyoko looked up just as a heavy blush was setting into Yachi’s cheeks, and when she saw the way the younger blonder crossed and uncrossed her legs reflexively, Kiyoko licked her lips in a way Yachi would later describe to Hinata over coffee in the school café as “almost predatory, in absolutely the best way”, much to the great amusement of her supportive best friend

Kiyoko wouldn’t be the gentle and painstaking lover that Hinata had always seen her with before, and she wouldn’t be the kind and overly accommodating girlfriend that Yachi had tended to choose as safer options at the end of high school and towards the summer before college started.

No, Kiyoko would be smoldering. One glance could set Yachi’s thighs on fire, and simply watching Kiyoko push her hair back behind her ears or bite her lips just a bit too seductively in the hour that the workshop class dragged on had Yachi painfully distracted and aroused at the same time. She wanted to be held down, and she wanted to be told to beg for it, and something about Kiyoko told her that she would be able to realize all of the baser desires that she usually kept under lock and key in order to maintain her painstaking crafted “innocent good girl” image for the benefit of her family.

The bell rang, and Yachi snapped out of her increasingly erotic daydream with a shock. She packed up her notebook which had almost no notes aside from the date scribbled in the margins and started to grab her bag and make her way to the classroom door.

“Hold on, um, Hitoka, was it?” Kiyoko said as she forcefully held the door to prevent Yachi couldn’t make the quick escape she intended for.

“I need you to stay for a moment.”

Yachi’s heart started beating almost erratically out of her chest.

“Y-yes?” She squeaked, cursing herself for sounding like a scared little kid.

Kiyoko smiled that predatory smile again, and Yachi knew that she wasn’t going to make it to her next class on time. Shimizu’s hand made it from the door to Yachi’s shoulder somehow, and she relished the way that Yachi seemed to swallow almost nervously. She felt like a cat playing with a very, very interesting little mouse.

“You seem like a good student,” Kiyoko said, ushering her to the desk at the front of the room, and Yachi did what seemed instinctive and sat atop the mahogany desk after Kiyoko almost politely cleared the scattered papers and made room for her.

Kiyoko herself took a seat on the rickety chair in front of the desk and enjoyed the way Yachi’s slender legs dangled off the edge of the desk, in a way that almost seemed to beckon her between them. Her hands made their way to either side of Yachi’s waist, and Shimizu’s fingers idly toyed with the soft wool of Yachi’s seemingly innocent schoolgirl skirt. Yachi gulped again as Kiyoko’s inquisitive fingers went from playing with the material of her skirt to skating over the bare skin of her smooth thighs.

“But what I couldn’t help but notice…” Kiyoko purred as Yachi grew more and more uncomfortably aroused, “…was that you didn’t seem to take a single note while I was talking.”

Yachi faltered, realizing that she’d been caught daydreaming red handed, but Kiyoko continued smoothly as her fingers moved from the outside of Yachi’s now quivering thighs to the inside of her legs, coming teasingly close to where Yachi’s panties were growing wetter by the second.

“So, either you know everything about diatomic atoms,”,” Kiyoko purred as her thumbs stroked Yachi lightly through her panties, “or I’m going to have to punish you, Hitoka-chan,”

At this, Yachi let out a moan as her clit begged for more attention from Kiyoko’s very attentive fingers. “S-senpai,” Hitoka begged, “P-please, more,” and Kiyoko’s eyes widened in arousal at the irreverent use of the honorific that turned her on way more than she expected.

“Ah, you’re cute, Hitoka-chan,” Kiyoko whispered as her fingers gently hooked on the waistband of Yachi’s panties and pulled the soft fabric down off Yachi’s slender hips, throwing the offending article of clothing onto the floor so she could have more access to the almost weeping girl beneath her.

“You can call me Kiyoko, if you like,” Shimizu smirked and whispered into Yachi’s ears before nibbling on the shell and licking all the way down to her neck. Her hands continued to tease Yachi’s thighs, and Yachi grew so impatient that she took Kiyoko’s hands and brought them underneath her skirt and guided to her wet clit so she could grind against her fingers.

Kiyoko grew more and more turned on from this sudden act of boldness and desperation, and she relished the way that Yachi groaned when Kiyoko’s skilled tongue played her like a violin. Yachi had tucked her hair back and exposed her neck to Shimizu, almost begging to be marked by her, and Kiyoko wasted no time in marking the girl as  _ hers _ .

“Or,” Kiyoko bit down at the juncture of Yachi’s shoulder and neck and then licked the hickey and kissed the forming red mark while threading her hands through Yachi’s golden locks, “you can call me ‘senpai’. I like that quite a lot, too.”

Somewhere in all of this, the white button down that Yachi has so carefully picked out this morning had become unbuttoned and was thrown off her shoulders. The straps of her white, lacy bra were sliding off Yachi’s shoulders and Kiyoko did them both a favor and unclasped her bra so that she could put her mouth against Yachi’s soft pink nipples and lick in a circle around her areola.

Yachi almost screamed at the stimulation. She loved having her nipples played with, and along with the two fingers that Kiyoko had slid inside her and  _ curled,  _ just the way she liked it, she knew that she wasn’t going to last very long. Kiyoko kept a brutal pace when finger fucking her, and she alternated between curling her fingers hard and slowly just enough to drive Hitoka crazy. Yachi bucked her hips onto Kiyoko’s fingers and she actually did scream when Kiyoko lifted her lips from her breasts to whisper in her ears. “If we were at my place right now,” Kiyoko mouthed while licking the soft skin of her ear and down to her neck to leave more marks, “I would make you ride me,”

“I would put on my strap and having you bouncing up and down, and then I would throw you onto your stomach and fuck you from behind. I think Hitoka-chan is so sexy like this, and I want to see the way your hips back up onto my dick while I pull your hair and make you mine,”

Yachi could feel herself coming at the promise that this was the first but certainly not the last time Kiyoko intended to fuck her. “I bet you would look so good with your tits bouncing up and down, Hitoka,” Kiyoko whispered into her neck, and a few more thrusts from her demanding fingers hand Yachi almost screaming into Kiyoko’s mouth as she pulled her down for a breathtaking, brutal kiss that involved more tongue than actual technique.

Kiyoko’s nails scraped down Yachi’s thighs, leaving red marks in their wake, and as their tongues slid against each other, and Kiyoko pulled on her hair  _ just  _ hard enough to make the submissive inside of Yachi moan wantonly, aiming a few final thrusts at Yachi’s already overstimulated g-spot. Yachi thought they were almost done, as she’d come pretty hard already, and as she drew Kiyoko close in a post coital need to cuddle, the taller woman scooted off of the chair and away from her embrace.

Yachi was confused for a second, trying to understand why Kiyoko was kneeling on the ground and pushing her skirt up off her hips, but there was only a second of cool air on her pussy before she felt Kiyoko’s tongue circling her clit and Yachi almost squirted just at the sight of the black clad woman gripping her thighs tightly and pressing her tongue piercing against Yachi’s wetness.

Kiyoko wasn’t going to just let her have one orgasm, it seemed. She did have a reputation as a pussy destroyer to maintain, after all.

Yachi grabbed onto Kiyoko’s hair and tugged  _ hard _ , almost riding her face while Kiyoko smiled triumphantly at her reaction. She ground her hips against Kiyoko’s pierced tongue and lips shamelessly, and Kiyoko relished the way her tongue could alternate between fucking Yachi’s tight hole and going back to sucking on her clit as she savored the submissive blonde’s frantic reaction.

Finally, Hitoka’s hips stuttered at the brink of her orgasm, and Kiyoko knew the signs well enough to hold her hips, so she didn’t fall of the desk completely. Kiyoko had spent her fair share of time underneath different girls’ skirts, and from her experience she knew that Yachi would tilt her hips squarely so the flat of Kiyoko’s tongue could lick against her clit, and then probably collapse from the heat of two orgasms right after another.

She prided herself on making most girls unable to move for a while, and Hitoka was no different because after her orgasm, she fell flat against the desk with her eyes closed and her elbow over her eyes, almost as if she was sleeping. Kiyoko laughed, briefly, at the sight of the appropriately blissed out girl lying on the desk above her, and she got up from her place knelt on the ground in order to kiss Hitoka’s lips chastely and even leave a kiss on her sweaty forehead.

She took in the sight of the barely dressed girl lying flat against the desk she’d been using to hold her papers and textbooks just a moment ago, and she spotted a Sharpie lying close to Yachi’s right hand. She grabbed the marker and then grabbed Yachi’s wrist to scribble ‘call me’ and her phone number on the poor girl’s forearm.

She grabbed Yachi’s long discarded panties off the floor and placed them next the girl who was now waking up and realizing what they’d just done in a classroom. Yachi dazedly slid her bra and her button down back on, and before she could register what Kiyoko had written on her hand, the taller, beautiful woman had kissed her again and walked out of the class room, leaving Yachi undressed and very sticky. She glanced at her slender leather wrist watch and saw how she’d missed not one, but two of her classes, and groaned when she realized the mess she was probably in.

It certainly didn’t help that there was dark black marker scrawled on her hand, but as she started to make out the phone number that was written along her arm, she smiled sheepishly and finally finished getting dressed. She took out her phone from her book back and texted a  _ ‘meet me in the café’ _ to Hinata and then programmed her senpai’s number into her phone. Her schedule was done for the day, and her stomach growled for lunch after realizing that she had barely had time for anything more than a frosted granola bar all day.

‘ _ sure’ _ Hinata had texted back, and she knew that that meant that their whole group was probably going to head over to grab lunch together. She wasn’t sure if she could face the questioning looks from Yamaguchi or an equally clueless Kageyama, and she sure as shit wasn’t ready for the way Hinata would bombard her with questions about why she’d miss class today and Tsukishima would simply take one look at all her hickies and messy hair and just  _ know  _ that she’d gotten lucky.

She sighed as she walked through the snow and on the way to the dining hall. Well, better to get lunch before thinking about what just really happened, at the very least. While she was walking, she sent off a quick text to the senpai she’d just been entangled with moments ago.

‘ _ Am I still allowed to be in your workshop section now?’  _ Yachi texted, then swore about how much of a goody two shoes she probably sounded like. Still, leave it to her to be worried about her grades over her social life.

She got a response while she was in life for her meal, amid the chattering from Hinata and the usual back and forth between him and an irate Kageyama. She barely registered the snarky response from Tsukishima and the muffled laugh from Yamaguchi as she looked at her iphone screen and saw ‘ _ you better not quit my section now.’  _ from her senpai. She chuckled at that quietly and all 4 of her friends turned around and looked at her curiously.

“Ya-chan looks very happy today,” Yamaguchi said, quite innocently, as he grabbed a sandwich from the a la carte tray.

“I’m sure she does,” Tsukishima snickered, and Yachi turned bright red.

“I-it’s nothing like t-that,” she stuttered, but she was interrupted by another beep from her phone signaling a text message.

She looked down again and saw the ‘ _ come over tonight’  _ and address in the blue I-message blinking on her screen. She couldn’t help but smile brightly at the invitation, even though she knew her friends would give her shit for days.

 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on twitter @ complex_andhera


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